


Holier Than What?

by gala_apples



Series: The Joneses Get Down [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Religion Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sky Factory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 06:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17782310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Moving to a new colony for university, Trevor has to find a religion to be accepted. What makes the whole thing easier is the Wegnoz definition of religious practices.





	Holier Than What?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for seasonofkink, twice. On the bingo card, using the 'free space'. For the Holiday Challenge, using the kinks teasing, objectification, mechanical/technological, in public, worship, first time, sex work, gags, places, threesomes.

If you want to live on Wegnoz, you have to have a god to worship. Not by literal law, the planet isn’t technically a theocracy. Social law can really hold its own though, and if Trevor wants to have a pleasant four years plus here, he has to have a god to talk to his dorm mates about. 

Of the six being that created the world, some are more compelling than others. He has really no desire to tie himself to the Blood God, a deity who grows stronger with each drop spilled by the innocent. The Creature God is equally objectionable. Yes, his menagerie of fantastical animals that filled the world with materials are interesting, but ultimately he abandoned his work, choosing to build himself another planet and not tell the other gods about it. Trevor wants to believe he’s not that kind of person. 

Of the four remaining, his truest alignment is the Solar Queen. Providing the world with light and hope is something he could be into. Unfortunately her tithings are too steep. She needs literal constant improvements. All worshippers are tracked to see if they’ve got more to show for themselves this year than last, and must attend motivational seminars and one on one training sessions if they’re not. It’s too much pressure. As a college student here on an interplanetary scholarship, that pressure could break his already full plate. 

What he really needs is a chill god. That’s why, in the end, after a few excruciatingly awkward conversations about which services he’ll be attending on the weekend, Trevor goes with the Wild God.

It does come with a few requirements, but they’re nothing unmanageable. So many hours of ritual replanting trees in the nearest forest, number fluctuating based on physical ability, time available and level of piety. Attempts to commune with the fairies. One part of the Wild God’s scripture in particular seems like a good time. The third day of college Trevor has a free evening, so he drives out to the nearest cathedral. It’s a gorgeous area full of intricate pathwork, stained glass hanging from the trees, and arching gazebos. Trevor struggles for a moment to locate a priest, but eventually catches a glimpse of shocking pink amongst the million shades of green and brown. He strides determinedly in that direction, and finally comes upon members of the wilding priesthood. Two, of course. According to his research they always come in pairs.

“May we help you?” the woman asks.

“Hi. Yeah? I want to uh, sign up?” Trevor chuckles nervously. It’s obviously the wrong word choice, but he can’t think of how else to phrase ‘I want to temporarily follow your religion so my project partners don’t give me shit’. 

“Fantastic. The Wild God is always looking for more saplings to grow strong under his skies.”

The man, silent up until now, finally speaks. “Have you made any other steps along the path?”

“No. Uh, I’m originally from Ghroui. I’ve been here less than a week. But I love your culture, and there are a lot of tenants of wilding that fit my, uh-” fuck, why is _lifestyle_ the only word he can think of. He’s going to piss off these priests and then where will he be?

“Your approach to faith,” the blonde suggests.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Are you able to work with one male and one female?”

Trevor knows it’s a bit of a trick question. While the Solar Queen draws a lot of genderqueer believers, the god herself going by queen but by scripture appearing stereotypically male, leading to fierce debate, the Wild God is on a different end of the LGBTQ spectrum. He’s ferociously sexual, to the point of bedding sentient non-human creatures regularly. You don’t have to be pansexual to be a wilding, but it helps.

“Yeah. That’d be great. I’m Trevor, by the way.”

“I’m Michael, she’s Lindsay. If you’ll follow us to a portal we can start the concupiscence rite.”

Trevor follows Michael over beautifully laid pathstones. Each seems to be molded with specific valleys, deep enough to allow purchase for moss to grow in intricate line work. It’s almost a shame to step on them, from his point of view, but he knows that wildings have a tenant of natural destruction, that everything that exists will be destroyed for the growth of something else. If this moss rips off with the tread of his shoe, it gives room for new moss to live.

The portal is grand in its own way, though severely brought down by its harshness. In these acres of green and brown and glinting mosaic tile, the portal is a foreboding rich black. It’s twenty feet high if it’s a foot, and the side columns are wider than a man. And for good reason, Trevor knows. 

“It’s important that you know you can say stop at any time. The Wild God is not the god for everyone.”

Trevor understands. The concupiscence rite is not a choice, like baptism at home is not a choice for Anglicans, but he can choose to not join this religion. He can’t see it being an issue though. The pink robes conceal most of Michael and Lindsay’s bodies, but their faces are cute, and they seem kind enough. You don’t become a high priest in a wilding church without being approachable.

“He’s my god, though.” Big words, for someone on the edge of believing, but he’s trying.

“Soon. We promise.” Lindsay makes the first move, both verbally and physically. She strokes the side of his face with her hand, then holds it in place so she can come in for a kiss. It escalates quickly, from closed lips on lips, to open mouths, to a tongue against his. Trevor’s pretty sure it’s a sign of things to come.

When Lindsay steps back, Michael is standing there, naked. Skyclad, he’s heard Wiccans like calling it. He’s never understood that until now. Michael doesn’t look naked, with the hesitance and weakness and suggestiveness that implies. He looks like he’s dressed in the world around him, like his outfit just happens to encompass Trevor’s entire field of vision, soil and leafy canopy and blue sky. It’s said that one of the many affairs during the creation of Wegnoz was the Wild God and the Solar Queen, and with the way the sunlight filters through the trees and dapples Michael’s skin, Trevor can see why.

Michael’s kiss is just as powerful as Lindsay’s. There’s a sermon in his lips, one that Trevor’s body is hearing even if his ears aren’t. The kiss of a priest like this is enough to make Trevor want to believe, not just go through the motions. He places his hands on Michael’s lower back and prays for the first time in years. A prayer that soon he’ll be able to move his hands lower and touch Michael’s ass, sure, but on this planet, in this religion, that’s not a blasphemous secular mockery of prayer. It’s the real deal. The Wild God wants him to fuck, and grow, and live. He knows it, from his reading back home, and from Michael’s mouth.

It’s gratifying to see that Michael is half hard when he pulls away. It’s not just him, then. Lindsay lacks visible quantifiers, but Trevor can only hope she’s into this too. She’d have to be, right? She’s a Wild God priest. 

“We’d like to strip you, if you’re ready.”

Trevor is definitely ready. He’s totally capable of undressing himself, of course, but there’s something to be said for two sets of hands working to get his clothes off. The tease of fingertips grazing him at his hemlines. As best as he can remember this is the first time a lover has stripped him down and he’s not sure why it’s never happened before. It most certainly won’t be the last time. He’ll have to give this to every future lover.

In a moment he’s fully nude. Even his shoes have been added to the neat pile of outside accoutrement. It could be worse. The soil is so moist, the grass so luscious that his bare feet merely sink in. The air is so warm it feels like it’s caressing his skin. And Lindsay and Michael are both touching him. 

With fingers pushed into his chest, Michael backs Trevor up until his shoulders are touching the portal. He stays dick to dick with him, legs tangled with each other. Only Michael’s torso leans away, and it’s that movement that permits Lindsay to shift half in, enough so to get her hands on both of Trevor’s biceps. With a twist of hand, she’s coaxing up Trevor’s arms, straightening them to the wrist. Once they’re flush against the glinting black, Lindsay moves away, far enough to regard everything.

“Just stay like that now, Trevor.”

Okay. He can do this. After a moment of experimentation Trevor’s left hand grabs his right wrist. His arms sag a little as they prop up against the portal, but they stay above his head. He should be able to pose that way for awhile. 

Lindsay and Michael both step to the other column of the portal. Lindsay is beside Trevor, breasts pressed against the obsidian, arms up, legs braced by it. Trevor can’t see Michael, being on the outside of the frame, but he has to guess he’s performing the same action. 

“We give to you our flesh, and the joy of our growth,” they intone in unison. “Should we please you, show us a sign. Allow the door to your hallowed sanctuary open, allow us to hear the song of life in death.”

It’s a short holy tract, but Trevor can see how Michael and Lindsay are fueled by this. They appear so possessed of themselves, so poised. They come towards him with all the attention of a stalking tiger, and when they reach him, Michael drops to his knees. Michael immediately sucks him up to the hilt. He devours him, and Trevor says as much out loud. And it doesn’t stop there, because at his first shuddering exhale, the portal turns on. Flushes with a purple light that no one dare walk through, because once you do, you don’t come back. Even the Wild God didn’t.

The sensation of a running portal is something the religious texts have never quite been able to agree on. Annoying, from a prospector standpoint. Who doesn’t want as much information as they can get before deciding on something huge? But as a participant, Trevor gets the descriptive confusion. It’s electrifying, except for how it isn’t. There’s a hum that makes his entire body tingle, but no muscle tensing jolts of pain. It’s paralysis, except for how it’s not. His body is like a magnet on a fridge, technically still able to move, but motionless until forced. It’s overwhelming, except for how it’s not. It’s oddly freeing, not having this option.

It’s like the first time he ever got high as a teenager, that moment of realization that your body can feel totally different if it wants too, the only thing tying you to normal experience is social consensus. Trevor’s hesitant to call it a religious experience, it’s more of a paradigm shift, a flickering of reality. But he thinks that’s what they’re going for anyway.

As Michael sucks him, searing mouth lighting a fire all over Trevor, Lindsay approaches. She’s got her own balls of fire to drop, a hickey being raised and a nicely massaged scrotum. Lindsay’s even using a hand on herself, working her clit in a way that makes her teeth tense on his throat every few seconds. Trevor thanks her, thanks him, thanks this glowing portal, thanks this planet. He’s being burned up and he’s never been more grateful, and he just wants these leaders to know how he feels.

Trevor comes down Michael’s throat in minutes. His knees want to buckle as all his energy floods out of him, but the portal’s vibration somehow holds him up. The technological hold gives him the opportunity to watch Michael fall to his haunches and start to jerk his cock, and eventually spill into his hand. Fuck, this is so much better than first rites for the Blood God. Fucking _shit_. 

Michael rises, knees and calves freckled with soil. Even fully satisfied, the image gives Trevor an aftershiver. He wonders if somewhere amongst the trees is a good old fashioned aqueduct system that’ll allow for outdoor showering. Surely they don’t leave the church acreage to go home covered in come and leaves and loam. There must be a way to clean off. If that so happens to involve Michael’s curly hair dampened to his scalp as he shakes his head in slow motion and sunlight making the water trickling down his abs gleam, all the better.

“Look man. I’m not mad, but if you’re here for what you say you are, you’ve got to do better.”

“What?” Trevor boggles, scolded mood a total whiplash from the orgasmic high. As far as Trevor knew, the rite only asked mutual orgasm from him and the two priests guiding him. And that was definitely accomplished. There’s evidence.

“The fairies whisper, first. To see if a new prospect cares enough to listen. It’s only with time that they make their presence known. You were talking the whole time. If you want to become an acknowledged believer, it’s like Michael says, you have to do better.” Lindsay’s inner thighs gleam with her juices, and it only makes her look more alive. There is no cognitive dissonance here between the religious counsel and the spattering of sweet tangy come. This is what the Wild God wants from her.

Michael stands beside Lindsay, their fingers loosely woven. “If you really want to make the effort, if you care about this, you have to be willing to do what it takes. Can you open yourself up to faith?”

“I can do that,” Trevor rushes to say. All of a sudden he doesn’t want to disappoint them. He wants to respect their belief. He can’t believe he cares about what two priests think, but he does. He admires their conviction.

Michael makes his way to the pink pile that is his robe. There must have been pockets he didn’t see, because he comes back with a hand clenched around something. Michael’s fingers part and Trevor sees it, the sacrifice to the Wild God they want him to make. Michael’s holding a gag. And how can he say anything but okay?

The rubber pushes his upper and lower jaw apart, a good stretch that if it goes on for too long will have him eating only soft foods the next day. But Trevor accepts it, and doesn’t move while Michael closes the band and Lindsay plays with his hair. He feels taken care of, and that feeling trumps any physical discomfort. 

They bear him to the ground. He’s gone from the warm air and sun baking his skin to lush long grass, verdant and wet against his back. It feels so good Trevor gasps. Or, he tries to. The air doesn’t expand in his mouth the right way, and he ends up just hissing with his tongue jammed against firm rubber. Its hotter than he would have guessed, to be controlled in this way.

Trevor’s expecting his legs to be pushed up so Michael can lure in the fairies with ball slapping anal. That, or Lindsay crawling on top of him and riding him to her orgasm. Maybe, if things are gonna get really weird, he and Michael can both fuck her at the same time. What he’s _not_ expecting is Michael turning to be perpendicular, and on his back. Lindsay climbs Michael and plants herself on his cock. Her weight being half on outstretched arms, which press against Michael’s shoulders, Trevor ends up completely pinned to the ground with the weight of Michael’s back.

Lindsay and Michael fuck with abandon on top of him. Trevor continues to be ignored, beyond the base of having tactile and visual and scentual proximity. It’s like he’s their pillow, just some object they can use. He’s surprised by how hot that is. Or maybe he’s not a pillow. Maybe he’s the altar on which they’re delivering their sermon. Integral, but seperate.

Midway through the priests calling upon the fairies, Trevor hears humming. Not the steady tone of the still purple glowing portal, but a clear melody. It gets closer, then drifts away as a person moves by on a path just out of sight. It was easy to forget he’s in a _public_ church, surrounded only by the beauty of the trees, but now it’s all come rushing back. Any moment a wilding attendee could stumble across them and it wouldn’t be any weirder than a restaurant chef cutting vegetables or a lawyer making a speech; just a devoted employee doing a task of their job. Even the semi-bondage and the gag probably wouldn’t get more than a second glance. When a priest says something is necessary, the patrons tend to listen.

Michael’s flailing arm makes contact with Trevor’s thigh. His fingers spasm on Trevor’s leg as Lindsay fucks herself on her fellow devotee. It’s the first purposeful contact they’ve made since the beginning of this round, and it recentres Trevor. The instinctive movement is a sign that Michael isn’t the be all and end all, that he can feel things too. Knowing that, Trevor’s a little more on equal footing. And then there’s the matter of the pain. When Michael’s fingers dig in the fine pinpoints of pain align and make Trevor hotter. Trevor’s always had a bit of a kink for sexy pain, and the build up to this is beyond anything he’s experienced before.

Maybe he’s gone delirious, mentally broken from the need to come and the need to be lavished with attention. Maybe the stained glass wind chimes spangled among the trees have hypnotized him. Whatever the root, Trevor sees a sparkly haze of pink dots begin to appear. “Fairies?”

“Do you see them?” Michael asks.

Lindsay adds, “aren’t they beautiful?”

“I guess.” Despite all indications being he’d hear them first, the forest is silent. If they’re truly there, they’re really just pink flutters in the air. 

“The longer you’re with us, the more you’ll see beauty in everything natural. Even the terrible beauty.”

Talk about positive reinforcement. It’s a concept they must be familiar with, being two of the faces of the Wild God religion. Like in retail, repeat customers are needed for survival. Onto their game or not, Trevor still feels like he’s falling for it. This church seems like more than just social convenience now. It’s a place where he can see Lindsay and Michael again. If that chance demands faith, so be it.


End file.
